


“Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.”

by Lost_Arrow



Category: White Collar, White Collar RPF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Arrow/pseuds/Lost_Arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An incident on a new case brings up memories of Neal's past that he hasn't shared with Peter. With the help of a new friend, Neal works to finally move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I used some artistic license about Neal's past but it's not too far off from the series. Also, this is set around season 2-3 when I feel Peter and Neal's relationship was at its peak. 
> 
> This may seem like rambling but it is kind of important later on in the story. So, based on some light research, I think Neal started big heists at 23 . Peter chased Neal for 3 years so they arrested him at 26. Then, he was put in jail for basically 4 years, which would make him 30. I’m saying he worked with Peter for about another 2, which puts Neal’s “age” at 32 in my story. I’m most likely off on that though.
> 
> Hope you like it :)

        “Peter, why are we here?” Neal began as they walked up the steps of the apartment building, “This type of police work is surely beneath us. “

        Peter sighed for what was probably the twentieth time that morning and pushed his consultant through the doors _._ “I’m here investigating a lead. You are here because I own you. Besides, don’t you want to prove me wrong on this case?”

        Neal muttered something unintelligible and dragged his feet even more as they walked past the broken elevator and towards the staircase. The apartment was supposed to be on the eighth floor.

        “Peter, I am telling you, he’s not going to be here. Do you see this place? Does it look like the kind of apartment this Wolsey guy would live in?” Neal implored while gesturing around the dingy building.

_David Wolsey. The primary alias believed to belong to a billionaire whose true identity is unknown. To the general public and much of the FBI, he became rich off the stock market and lives as an art collector in various properties all around the world.  However, according to Neal, he is responsible for dozens of thefts and cons. Peter remains skeptical, for not a single shred of evidence can be found against him. Instead, he, like the rest of the agents, believes that the young teens that are being arrested are guilty.  Typically, there is a surplus of DNA evidence against the teens, but the money or art or whatever the mark was in the particular crime is never found. Due to a recent theft at the Met, the White Collar Division is chasing down all leads, including Neal’s Intel on Wolsey._

         “First of all, we don’t know if Wolsey is guilty so you can’t assume he is. He may be, _may be,_ corrupt but there’s no evidence that holds him accountable for any theft. The only reason we got a search warrant for this place is because of its proximity to the Met and the fact that several art fences have been here recently, perhaps to buy the stolen painting.” Neal rolled his eyes at the not guilty comment. ”Come on, Neal, at least we are checking it out. We’ll probably end up finding one of the guys he might be hiring to get the paintings. Maybe we’ll find some clues, maybe not that will lead to his arrest. Personally, I think this guy is above board. He’s offering money to people to get him these paintings and they are choosing to do so illegally. Neal, we see it all the time, criminals like this looking to make a quick buck.”

         “Peter, he’s not paying these people! I told you-“

         “Not now, Neal!”

         Neal just looked down and stood by as the agents and police officers prepared to open the door.  The inside light could be seen from underneath the door and a shadow was moving quickly and sporadically through it.

         “FBI! Open the door!” Quickly, agents knocked the door off its hinges and barged through. Peter immediately spotted a girl throwing a duffel bag through an open window that led to an alleyway behind the building.

         “Freeze! Put your hands in the air and step away from the window!” Peter commanded, in a somewhat reluctant tone, and the young girl slowly complied, looking wide eyed at the many guns. Then, using a softer voice, he turned to Jones, “Take a few agents and check the alley downstairs.”

         Peter continued with the process of arresting the girl and reading her rights.  Neal walked into the room once it had been cleared, and started with surprise at the image of Peter arresting a teenage girl.

         “Look, officer, I can explain-“ The girl began but was soon cut off by Peter.

         “It’s agent. You can explain in an interrogation room. Let’s go.” Peter cut her off before she could say anything. “Diana, take her down to the car.”

          Neal frowned at the sight of Diana guiding out what appeared to be a handcuffed 15-year-old girl out of the apartment. When he saw Peter watching him, he just shook his head disappointedly.

          “Peter, now do you believe me or do you honestly think she committed the heist? Her?“ Neal started to ask.

          “Okay, Neal! I know it’s unlikely she committed the crime, but she is probably involved as a go-between for Wolsey. She must be a street kid that got involved with the wrong crowd.” Peter said sadly.

          Neal just shook his head and began to look around the apartment.

         “It looks clean. In fact, the place looks wiped out. Not a single personal belonging and hardly any furniture.” He reported.

         “Yeah, Wolsey obviously wasn’t here. But the girl was throwing a duffel bag out the window when we came in. I sent Jones to check it out. Come on, let’s get back to the office, we’ll let the crime scene guys take over from here.”

         Peter began to walk out the room and back down the stairs. After one thoughtful glance around, Neal joined him.

         Jones met him on the ground floor with a confused look on his face.

        “Boss, we didn’t find anything in the alleyway. She must’ve had a partner.”

         Peter sighed for the twenty-first time that morning. “Thanks Jones, we’ll meet you back at the office.” Peter replied.  

         Diana was walking a compliant girl to the car.  

         “Peter, you know she didn’t do this. You can’t let them put her in prison. You can’t.” Neal spoke seriously, with a dark look in his eyes.

         “Maybe Neal, maybe not. You say this Wolsey guy is responsible but he seems clean. If we find any evidence against her there’s only so much I can do.” Peter said helplessly. “Let’s just get back to the office and see if she knows anything.”

         They both headed toward the Taurus and Peter drove them over to the FBI White Collar building. Throughout the ride, Neal remained quiet, which was never a good sign.

          As the entered the elevator, Neal finally opened his mouth to speak.

          “Peter, you know, this type of thing isn’t uncommon.” He began.

          “What are you talking about now?” Peter asked, exasperated with Neal’s cryptic comments.

          “Well, what I’m saying, is that there are… Groups of people, organizations, if you will, that…recruit young kids and use them for crimes.” Neal said softly.

          “You’re saying that all of the teens we pick up for crimes that seemed not even remotely connected to Wolsey are actually being coerced? Please Neal, there has to be some sort of decision to participate in the crime on behalf of the teen. Otherwise that’s just… implausible.” He snorted with disbelief. Neal might have a soft spot for teenage criminals but Peter, however, was all about justice. The kids will do their time and learn a lesson.

           “I’m saying,” Neal said, in an even softer voice, while he absentmindedly swept his shoe on the floor, ”that these types of people exist.  Every criminal knows that. Peter, the idea of coercing children to carry out crimes is not a revolutionary concept.”  Neal finally looked up and his eyes were solemn, and the blue had become a cloudy gray.

           “You’ve run into these people before? Neal?” Now, he was looking sharply at the younger man, who appeared to be avoiding any sort of eye contact. Peter opened his mouth to question him further when the elevator dinged and opened to their floor.

           “After you.” Neal said with a smile and a flourish of his hands, masks already back up and hiding his emotions.

            Inside the glass doors, there was a flurry of action. Diana ran up to Peter, breathless, “Boss, the girl escaped. Picked the lock of her handcuffs and then forced open the door and jumped out. We think she escaped around 88th street.”

            Peter took several deep breaths before responding. “We _think?”_ He asked, barely controlling his anger.

           “Yeah… Um… She jumped out quietly while the car was still in motion so the driver didn’t notice she was gone until he reached the offices.” Diana said, awkwardly rubbing the back of her neck.

            Peter didn’t have to look behind him to see the smirk on Neal’s face. “Alright, tell me how far you’ve gotten. Neal, you go look through the files on Wolsey and pick around your contacts for the girl.” He ordered, already striding up the steps to the conference room.

           “Yes sir.” Neal replied, clearing trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. He headed to his desk, walking cockily down the aisle.

 

 

            Soon, it was nighttime and they had no clues on the whereabouts of the mystery girl. Frustrated, Peter sent everyone home for the night. He watched Neal slink out of the office, looking suspiciously guilty of something. Opening the tracker app on his phone for Neal’s anklet, he began checking every 10 minutes or so until Neal arrived at his apartment. Then, he headed home, hopefully, to a warm meal and an understanding wife.

            Neal arrived at his apartment and immediately noticed the light was on and the door was slightly ajar.

            “Moz?” He called out. “It’s kind of late, are you-“ He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a girl sitting at his dining room table. “It’s _you._ “

            “Surprise!” She said with a false smile.

            “What are you doing here? Listen, they’ve got a warrant out for your arrest, cops are checking everywhere. If you haven’t got out of New York yet, then you aren’t going to be able to.”

            “I was too excited to meet you. I would’ve introduced myself at the apartment but that probably wouldn’t have helped my case, would it have?” She stood up and approached him, walking confidently.

            “You know me? Or, well, of me?” Neal asked confusedly.

            She let out a soft laugh. “Of course. You are famous. Well, in _our_ world at least.” She held out a hand, ”You might’ve heard of me as The Mist?”

            Neal’s jaw nearly hit the floor in shock. “No way! You’re The Mist? That was you in Paris? Moscow? At the heist in Toledo? And Madrid? And-“

            “Yes. For the record I never approved of that moniker.” She said with an easy smile.

            Neal eased himself into the chair opposite of the one she was sitting in and sat in stunned silence. Then he looked up, with a challenge in his eyes. “Prove it.”

            She sat down with him and nodded, “I’ve been expecting that. Okay, ask me any question about any heist or forgery that I’ve _allegedly_ done.”

            After an hour, a few wine glasses, and several new ideas for cons later, Neal shook his head disbelievingly. “All right, I believe it’s you. Geez, are you even old enough to drink? You know the FBI has no file on you whatsoever?”

            She raised her glass to him, “I’m pleading the fifth to the first question. But yes, I am aware of that fact and I am planning on keeping it that way. I’ve actually stepped out of crime for the time being.”

            “So, that does beg the question, why are you here? Did you do the job at the Met” Neal asked with his head cocked curiously to one side.

            She twirled her one glass for a few moments before finally opening her mouth to respond. “I assume you and the feds are on to Wolsey? Have you uncovered the new Guardian Organization yet?”

            Neal sighed. He wasn’t lying to Peter when he said those types of groups exist. A Guardian Organization is what they call themselves. They recruit teens that are in unstable positions but usually have special talents. Then, they offer them shelter, and, in this case, Wolsey offers to be their Guardian. He’ll protect them as long as they do as he asks, usually meaning putting their talents to art heists and forgeries. Soon, the teens rack up a debt to their Guardian that they are unable to repay and they end up spending their life in servitude to him. If the teen refuses to comply, it gets worse.

            “I suspected Wolsey was the new leader of the latest organization but the Feds can’t find any evidence. Does he have you?” Neal asked.

            “He did. I was one of the lucky few that managed to pay off all debts and leave cleanly. But… I left behind friends there. I’ve been doing what I’ve been doing for the last few years to help some of them out. That’s why I was in the apartment. A friend of mine was about to be thrown away by Wolsey for the theft at the Met. I just… could not let that happen.” She trailed off, face becoming more drawn by the minute.

            “Have you ever thought about going to the authorities?”

            She scoffed. “They’re just as worse!           Arresting kids that couldn’t possibly be the masterminds behind the entire thing instead of investigating Wolsey! What are they going to do?” Her hand clenched in anger against the oak table.

            Neal slid his hand closer and comfortingly rested it upon hers. “Listen, I have a friend in the bureau; he’s my handler. He’ll hear you out, probably won’t even press charges against you. Give it a try.” He persuaded. She just stubbornly shook her head in response. So, Neal reverted to another tactic. “Then what about the kids that can’t pay off his debt, huh? You’re going to save your friends and leave the rest to suffer? You’re going to stand by and let this continue?”

            “I can’t save all of them!” She snapped, “Besides, what do you know about it anyways?”

            “Have you ever heard about Andrew Gerhard?” Neal asked softly.

            She gasps and her eyes widen by several degrees, “No, no… he’s just a myth that David used to tell us to be grateful he didn’t hand us off to him. The things he would describe to us… they can’t be… Was he your guardian?” Her voice was shaking by the end of it.

            Neal nods and begins his story in a detached tone. That’s the only way he can talk about it without ending up in a shaking ball on the floor. "He recruited me when I was 16. I didn't escape until I was 20. His debts were… eternal. You could never pay them off unless you did the high-risk jobs so he had to provide extra incentive." Neal unbuttons his shirt and reveals 10 long scars along the side of his ribs. "I was lucky. I had the skills to get those jobs done and I still ended up with this. I know Wolsey may not resort to physical violence so what is it? Does he stop providing food? Does he stuff you in a shelter full of other kids in the same position as you? If you can't do a job, does he tell you how replaceable you are? Does he turn you to the cops?  It's hell and you know it. You may have survived it but there are and there will be so many that can’t. What do you think will happen to them?”

            She was cringing with every word. At the end of his speech her eyes were squeezed shut. When she opened them, she was still unable to hide the pain hidden within their depths. “When can I meet the suit?”

            Neal checked his watch before responding with a genuine smile, “We can head over now. I hope you like dogs.”

            She returned his smile and stood quickly, “Let’s go before I change my mind, shall we?”

            Neal led her downstairs and hailed a cab. On the way, he addressed what he thought were some important concepts before they arrived at the Burke’s residence.

            “How should I introduce you? I’m sure you don’t want The Mist appearing in a report later?” He said jokingly, yet with a serious undertone. After all, he didn’t even know her true name yet, although, he doubted many did.

            “Grace. Grace Turner. I’m 22 and from upstate New York.” She said with a convincing smile.

             Neal’s eyebrows shot up at the age and he just shook his head. “Is that the new identity Wolsey gave to you?”

             She looked down at her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. “Yeah,” She murmured softly, ”what about you? How long has Neal been yours?”

             “Andrew gave the really successful kids all new identities to assist them in their jobs. When I turned 18, I was pulling the most dangerous heists and cons. I needed an older alias so Andrew gave me an ID for Caffrey. When the feds caught me, Neal Caffrey was the name they tracked to me because I started using it at 18.  I’ve since became Neal Caffrey for good.”

             Grace didn’t respond for a while. She was looking thoughtfully out the window. Finally, she asked, “Do you remember who you really are? Your real age? Your real name?”

             Neal leaned across the seat until he was looking her in the eye. “Of course I do. But now, Neal is a bigger part of me. I grew into him.” He said simply. “All right Grace, here we are.” He held the cab door open for her and wrapped his arm comfortingly around her shoulders. He could feel her breaths coming in faster and hoped to calm her down before she bolted. After knocking, he prepared himself for Peter’s soon to come anger.

            The door opened quickly and Peter appeared in an undershirt and sweat pants. “Neal? What the hell are you doing here? Hey! You’re the girl from the apartment! Caffrey?” He asked accusingly.

           “Peter, please give us ten minutes to explain. Grace came to me willingly and wants to help shut down Wolsey.  Please, Peter.” Neal begged.

           “Come in.” Peter said gruffly, barely opening the door even more. He steered them to the dining room table and sat them down opposite of himself. “Explain.”

            Suddenly, El appeared in a robe wrapped around her pajamas, “Peter, Neal? What’s going on? And who’s this young lady?”

            “My name is Grace, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Grace said with a sincere smile.

            “Grace, why don’t you spend some time with El for a bit and get acquainted with Satchmo. I’m going talk to Peter for a bit.” Neal said.

             Peter opened his mouth to object but El beat him by leading Grace out of the living room. Not before she whispered a quiet thank you to Neal and a polite nod to Peter though.

             “Okay, Neal. You’ve invited a suspected criminal into my home and are leaving her with my wife. This better be a damn good explanation.”

             “Peter, I tried to tell you earlier. Grace is innocent. And I know Wolsey is guilty. I’ve seen his kind of scam before.” Neal took a deep breath before explaining, ”Wolsey is what you call the leader of a Guardian Organization. They recruit teens, usually runaways that have special talents that fit their needs. Then, they offer them shelter and false promises and Wolsey offers to be their Guardian. He says he’ll protect them as long as they do as he asks, usually meaning they have to commit crimes. Most of these teens don’t even know it’s wrong. These organizations recruit as young as twelve. Soon, the teens rack up a debt to their Guardian that they are unable to repay and they end up spending their life in servitude to him. If the teen refuses to comply, their life gets worse. Much worse, Peter.”

            “That’s sick! That bastard! No wonder there’s never any evidence. But we need proof. Is that how Grace is involved?”

            “Yeah, she was one of his early recruits but she managed to pay off her debts. She’s been trying to help out some of her friends that are still in the organization. That’s why she was in the apartment. One of her friends was about to get burned. She's willing to help us out.”

            Peter sighed (twenty second time). “Okay, I’ll see that we don’t press charges, she’s free to go if she helps us catch Wolsey.” Then, Peter’s eyes narrowed, “How do you know all of this? Are you involved in this somehow?” Peter demanded.

            “Peter, I would never, you know that.“ Neal managed to stutter out. His teen years began to flash before his eyes. Andrew used to yell at them the same way.

            “Neal, I can tell when you’re hiding something. Don’t you dare lie to me. How do you know all of this?” Peter leaned closer, his entire body tense.

            Neal saw rows of knives, hammers, and other tools lying next to Peter’s hands that didn’t really exist. He imagined Peter striking Neal to the floor, like Andrew had. His eyes were shifting wildly around looking for an exit plan.  Suddenly, more painful memories of his teen years (which weren’t as long ago as his ID may indicate) came to the forefront of his mind. “I wasn’t-“ He began to shudder, his entire body shaking. Peter has never seen him unravel like this before. _Never._

            “Neal?” Peter asked, shocked. He saw the effect of his words on Neal and knew he was innocent.  “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m just angry with Wolsey. I know you’d never be involved in something like this!” Peter tried to assuage Neal as he moved towards him.

            Neal shook his head violently, as if trying to expel bad memories. He pushed his chair back and let it topple to the floor then took two clumsy steps backward. “Peter, I-” And with those words, his knees buckled and Neal collapsed.

            “Neal!” Peter rushed forward and knelt down beside his fallen CI. He let out a sigh of relief once he felt a strong, if irregular, pulse in his neck. Then, carefully he lifted Neal to the couch in the living room. Grace and El were in there, already getting up to investigate the noise. Once they saw Neal, they both gasped in shock and El’s hand flew to her chest.

            “You pushed him on it, didn’t you? Geez, you couldn’t go all fed-bezerk for one moment?” Grace shouted angrily. Then, she flipped Neal over on his back and began to push and massage certain muscles on his neck and back.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Peter asked, outraged.

            “Loosening his muscles. He must’ve had a panic attack, he’s as tight as a string.” She took a deep breath to calm herself, “I’m sorry I snapped.” Even though her voice didn’t sound the least bit apologetic. Her movements against Neal’s body began to slow and she soon lifted her hands off of him. She flipped him back over and stood up so Neal could have his feet up as well.

            Peter frowned, then looked at her expectantly, which mirrored the look she was giving Neal. Just before he asked her what was going on, he heard a soft groan.

            “Peter? Are you there?”

            Immediately, he moved closer to his CI. “Yeah, yeah Neal, of course I am. How are you feeling buddy? I was just getting ready to take you to the hospital. Do you think you can walk to the car?”

            “No!” Neal shook his head vehemently and began to get agitated again. “Please, Peter, I really am fine. No hospitals, no, no,” His voice trailed off.

            Peter saw the begging look in his eyes and grudgingly agreed, “Okay, no hospitals. But you are staying here tonight to rest.” He conceded, trying to pry off the iron grip Neal had taken on his arm.

            The fight immediately went out Neal, and he whispered, “I’m sorry. So sorry.” Then his eyes slowly drooped and Neal fell asleep, his body and mind physically spent.

            Peter sighed and looked up to see El draping a blanket over Neal. Then, he turned to Grace, “Now your turn to explain.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where my version of Neal's past comes in. Enjoy :)

            Neal woke up, feeling loose all over. He slowly felt for his surroundings before opening his eyes and immediately recognized that he wasn’t in June’s house. He opened one eye a tiny bit and breathed a sigh of relief once he saw the familiar Burke living room. Then, memories of last night began crashing down.

            He sighed, now knowing he’d have to explain more of his childhood to Peter, but he knew it was worth it to catch Wolsey. After all, his guardian, Andrew, had already been taken care of. He stood quietly and followed voices to the kitchen. He peeked around the corner to see Peter and Grace sitting on the dining room table with case files and breakfast plates spread out around them. Both were smiling and laughing and El soon joined in with coffee mugs for everyone.

            “I feel like I’ve just walked into the set of some family commercial,” Neal said jokingly. However, he caused all of them to start, except for Grace, who had been aware of his presence. She was too sharp.

            “While you got your beauty sleep, we were actually solving crime.” Grace said sarcastically. She deliberately shook her head at the unspoken question in his eyes. She had kept his past a secret from Peter.

            Peter was looking him over with scrutiny. But Neal knew he wouldn’t see anything. He was under control now.

            “Grace, why don’t you help me in the kitchen for a bit?” El asked, looking purposefully at Neal and Peter.

            Grace waited for a nod from Neal before joining El in the kitchen. He took a deep breath and sat across from Peter at the table, grabbing some toast at the same time.

            “Have you guys got anything?” He asked, hoping Peter wouldn’t bring up last night.

            Peter was still staring at him intently and for a second Neal thought he wasn’t going to let it go. “Yeah. We were able to trace some of the other aliases Grace provided us with to some crimes. Now, we just have to connect them to Wolsey and we’ll have enough to bring him in.” He stated matter of factually. “Neal, about last night…”

            “Oh, yeah sorry about that. It was probably just a mixture of low sleep and low food. I’ve been busy lately, you know.” Neal tried to shake it off casually but he knew Peter wouldn’t buy it.

            “Neal! That was a panic attack! I’ve seen agents with PTSD act the same way! This is serious and if you think I’m going to let it go as you being tired, you obviously don’t know me!” Peter was standing now, leaning over Neal in his intimidating manner. When all Neal did was stare back, he pushed away from the table angrily and paced agitatedly around the small space. Then he took a deep breath and sat back down. “Neal, look at me. It doesn’t have to be right now. And-,” with a glance intended for Grace who was probably listening in the kitchen, ”-I don’t to push you on it. But if has anything to do with this case, I need to know. And screw it, as your friend, I want to be able to help you.”

            Neal kept his breathing steady and his face calm, not giving anything away. He managed to maintain his act while looking Peter in the eye. “Thanks, Peter. Sorry for freaking you out last night.” He said simply, ignoring the rest of Peter’s speech.

            Peter just shook his head, then called out for Grace and El to join them. Grace had a small smirk on her face while El just looked at Neal with wide eyes.

            “Peter, I think I have a way to get Wolsey. If we send Neal undercover as a potential partner for Wolsey, we'll be able to catch him in the act of a crime and hopefully, Neal can get close enough to find all of his... warehouses.” She was looking at Neal and they both smiled sadly, yet knowingly at each other.

            “That’s good. We’ll set up a sting." If Peter noticed her slight pause, he ignored it. "In the meantime what are you going to do?”

            “A sting?” Grace asked him questioningly with a confused look on her face.  A perfect misdirect from his question.

            “It’s what the FBI calls a con.” Neal answered quickly before Peter could reply.  Grace nodded sagely before both of them and El erupted into laughter. Peter sighed for the first time that day and shook his head. He could hardly handle Neal and now he had another one.

 

 

            After working tirelessly on the details of the sting for several hours, Peter decided it was time for a break. The whole crew (Diana, Jones, El, Neal, unfortunately Mozzie, and now Grace) was sitting around his dining room table.

            “Ok guys, good work. I’m thinking we take a break, grab some food, and then hammer out the specifics. Sound good?”

            With murmurs of consent coming from everyone, El brought in the pizza she had ordered and everyone ate happily.  Trying to start conversation, Peter turned to Grace.

            “So Grace, how old are you? You’re obviously very bright, yet very young.” Peter asked. The “why are you a criminal” went unspoken.

            “Twenty-two.” Grace said with a dazzling smile. “My birthday was two weeks ago actually.”

            Peter openly snorted with disbelief while Diana and Jones just looked at each other incredulously. “Come on, Grace, I mean, is that even your really name?”

            Grace glanced at Caffrey and they somehow communicated a world of knowledge within that single look. “Everyone calls me Grace. It’s my name.” Grace said firmly. Her stare left no room for argument.

            Peter just nodded absently and continued his questions. “So, where are you from?”

            For a moment, she didn’t respond. Different aliases passed through her brain and she debated which to choose.

            “Born and raised in New York.” Grace answered shortly, hinting that she was getting annoyed at his questioning.

            “And your family? Were they great con artists, too?” Peter asked, pretending to be oblivious to everyone’s discomfort. Immediately, he could tell he had gone too far.

            Grace stood abruptly, her chair squeaking against the hard wood floors. “Excuse me. I’m going to get some air. This _interrogation room_ is getting a little stuffy.”

            She stalked at of the room and into the back yard. Neal looked exasperatedly at Peter, Diana made an tsk sound, and Jones just looked away awkwardly. Then, Mozzie and El actually kicked him under the table.

            “Ow! Oh, come on! I was just curious. Wasn’t that a little bit of an overreaction?” Peter appealed, trying to regain favor.

            “Suit, look where she ended up. She was obviously still a minor when she was with Wolsey so, that means her parents didn’t care enough to file a missing persons or, her situation at home was worse than having Wolsey as a Guardian. Now, why would she want to talk about that?” Mozzie asked, disdain dripping into his tone. Then, him and Neal followed her out.

           Peter opened his mouth with a witty reply but it died on his lips. He ran his hands through his hair and turned to the remaining three, “Should I go apologize then?”

           “Hon, give her time to cool off. I’m sure Mozzie and Neal can talk to her.” El patted his knee and then began to clear the table. Diana and Jones quickly leapt up to help her and soon he was alone at the table.  He moved to the window and peaked into the backyard. Surprisingly, he saw Neal and Mozzie holding a trembling Grace. Guilt rose up within him as he realized how young she looked. He took a deep breath, told himself to cowboy up, and walked out.

           Grace’s head snapped up at his entry and a sneer immediately transformed her features. “Well, well, look who decided to join the party! Are you feeling guilty? Did you come to apologize? Well, save it!” She took three long steps until her dangerous, glittering brown eyes were peering up, only inches away from his. She jabbed her finger into his chest angrily. “You don’t get it do you? You dare ask me about my family? You dare look down upon me as a criminal? How nice of a home did you grow up in?” She was shaking with rage now, all of her careful control lost.  “My family was dirt poor. I grew up in the projects. Altogether, my parents worked 6 jobs to keep food on the table and clothes on my back. So, when my mom committed suicide, let’s just say the situation didn’t exactly improve. That’s when my dad started drinking, and gambling, and _hitting_.” Peter flinched with every word. “But don’t worry, when he got too far in debt with the wrong crowd, they took care of him. So, what happens to me, the street kid? You should be proud; I did the _right_ thing.  I went to child services and got put in the foster care. Happy ending, right? Wrong! The owner of foster house I was put in ran a meth lab. He tested out new formulas on us. So, once I got out of there, I was a street kid with a drug addiction. That was the result of your beautiful law system, which you so deeply revere. Wolsey picked me up because he noticed my art talent. Can you believe that? A _criminal_ saved my life. Sure, he may not have been the nicest man, but he took me off the streets, gave me food, shelter, clothes, educated me, and helped me survive. What your precious little system failed at doing.” Her tone was scathing, each caustic word eating up Peter’s pride. “You think you understand us?” She asked gesturing towards her, Neal, and Mozzie. “You think, that because we’re criminals, we’re greedy and uncontrollable? You think we all are the same? Get off your high horse! I know you're just as willing to bend the law if it suits you. You have no idea what my life has been like and you have no _right_ to go nosing through it! Good luck with your little ‘sting’, which, by the way, is the EXACT SAME THING AS A CON!” She shouted the last words and pushed a gaping Peter to the side as she ran through the house.

         After hearing the door slam, Peter gazed helplessly up at Neal and Mozzie, who exchanged a look. Then, Mozzie nodded and headed out to follow Grace.

         “I didn’t-“ Peter began, trying to explain himself.

         “Not now, Peter” Neal said wearily, repeating what Peter had said to him just yesterday, “I thought you would know better.” Disappointment colored his words and Neal slowly walked around him back in to the house. After one look to the sky, Peter followed.

         “Okay, everyone, for now, Grace is out of the operation so we’ll have to make some adjustments. Without her information, we don’t know Wolsey’s contact information or exact location. We are going to have to draw him out another way. Okay, let’s brainstorm. Any ideas?”

         No one volunteered a solution; everyone was stumped. 

         “It's going to be more challenging. Are you absolutely sure Grace is out?” Jones asked as he mulled over some idea.

         “Mozzie is talking to her.” Neal said, as he began to sketch out random plans on paper. “Peter? What do you think? You got anything?”

         “What? Oh yeah, sounds… good.” He replied absently. His eyes were unfocused and he looked downright lost.

          Everyone exchanged a knowing look. Then, Diana spoke up, “Let’s continue this at the office tomorrow, and see if there are any better ideas. Good night, Boss.” She pulled Jones to the feet and called goodbye to El, who was in the kitchen. Then, it was just Peter and Neal at the table.

          Peter looked up, a devastated look on his face, “This is all my fault, isn’t it?”

          Neal nodded coldly. “She was right, Peter. You had no right.” He shook his head and stood. “You just don’t get it. Good night, El.” He called to the kitchen then; he too left, leaving Peter to a quiet room.

          “Peter, sweetie, are you okay?” El finally returned to the table and began rubbing his chest and shoulders.

          “Are they right, El?”

           She sighed before she replied. “Neal and Mozzie are being a little harsh. But I think that has more to do with them being able to relate to her. You pushed Grace too far on the wrong subjects. And yes, you made wrong assumptions. Does that make you a terrible person? No, but it also depends on what you do to fix it.”

            Peter leaned over and kissed his beautiful wife. “Thanks, El. I got to go.”

 

            When Peter arrived at Neal’s apartment, he could hear voices on the inside. He easily identified Neal’s strong voice, then Mozzie’s, and finally Grace’s.

            “I don’t want to help _him_ , but that doesn’t mean I won’t help you guys.” He heard. He thought that was Grace speaking. Then Neal began to talk.

            “Listen, Grace, you know the operation falls apart without you. And yes, Peter was out of line today, but… it wasn’t unforgivable. He means well. Trust me. Please, join us again. We need you.”

            “Neal’s right,” Who Peter thought was Mozzie began to talk, “We need you. The suit’s actions may have been wrong today, but I’m sure his intentions were right.”

            “Fine.” Grace said. “I’ll consider coming back tomorrow. For now-“ She suddenly cut off. Peter frowned at the pause but then her voice picked back up again. “Sorry, you said we could discuss art? I’m dying to pick your knowledge on the impressionists.”

            Suddenly, with no warning at all, the door swung open and Peter was faced with three angry looking con artists.

            “Umm, Grace, I came to apologize.” Peter started, unsure of his position. Then, he squared his shoulders and continued, “I was an idiot and way out of line. I really am sorry about that. But, we need you. I can promise you that after this case you don’t have to speak to me again but don’t let our argument get between stopping Wolsey. Don’t let this be about me. Please.”

            Grace searched his eyes for a few moments. Peter doesn’t know what she found but apparently it convinced her. “Okay. I’ll help you guys out on this one.”

            Peter, Neal, and Mozzie breathed a sigh of relief. “Alright, we’re going to continue working on this tomorrow at 9 at the office. You can be there?”

            She nodded resolutely and gave Peter a small smile. Then, after nodding goodbye at all three of them, she slipped out the door. Soon, after Mozzie left too.

            Peter looked up at Neal and asked, “Do you have any idea where she’s going?”

            Neal just smiled and invited him in. “You want a beer, Peter?”  
            “Yes, please. I can definitely do with one about now.” Peter made his way to Neal’s dining room table and sat down wearily. Neal brought him a beer and poured himself a glass of wine. After a few moments of silence, Neal began to speak.

            “Peter, about last night…. When I told you about my past, I may have omitted a few things.” He stated uneasily. Peter looked up sharply and Neal rushed to continue, “Nothing too serious, just some minor details really. Ellen told me the truth when I was 15, just before I was about to apply for a police internship. That’s when I ran away.”

            “You were fifteen? And alone on the streets?” Peter spoke in a shocked voice. “How did you possibly survive?”

            “It took me 6 months to get to New York.  I backpacked, hitchhiked, did whatever I had to. When I got here, I stayed at a teen hostel. I lasted another six months. No one asked questions, and I even joined a local art club and began volunteering at some galleries. That’s where I was recruited.

            “Recruited? By who?” Peter asked, puzzled.

            “Andrew Gerhard. At the time, he was a very rich art collector. On the side, he ran the latest Guardian Organization. He recognized my talent and took me under his wing. He offered me food, nice clothes, shelter, and education. I was only sixteen; how could I say no to an offer like that?” Neal was twirling his wine glass slowly against the table, looking lost.

            “Neal…” Peter began in a pained voice.

            “Andrew became like a father to me. So, when he asked me to do certain things, of course I complied. Hey, can you paint this? No problem. At first, I didn’t even know he was selling my forgeries as the real deal.” Neal’s eyes had a far away look to them, like he was in another time. “Then, he got greedier, asked me to start forging other stuff: Bonds, checks, provinces, and other documents. But neither of us knew I would be so good at it! When I turned 18, he gave me a new identity. Neal Caffrey. I thought it was to make me appear older when I went to go to galleries and stuff. I didn’t- I didn’t know he had other intentions. That’s when the bigger jobs began. At first I refused, forging masterpieces was one thing but stealing them?” Neal shook his head. “I couldn’t. Andrew thought he had me tamed by then. But I was stubborn.  I knew what he did to other, less talented kids yet I still refused. After a few months, he was able to change my mind.” Neal’s hand unconsciously settled over his left side. The pain in his eyes was obvious.

            “Neal… Did he hurt you?” Peter whispered, afraid to learn the answer.

            Neal took of his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. “At first, he took away all the fine things I had earned with my service. Then, he sent me a warehouse where he hid all of the other worthless kids. At the warehouse, you were lucky if you got fed once a day. There were five people to a room the size of a closet. No beds. Usually, he used us for the unpleasant jobs, money transfers, drug exchanges, disposing of bodies.” Neal said quietly. “But Andrew knew my talent was wasted there. So, when I still refused the job he resorted to another tactic. I lasted two days.” Neal pushed aside his shirt to reveal ten long scars on his side. Peter gasped in shock and let his hand waver over the space betweeen them, wanting to comfort Neal, but afraid at the same time. “So long story short, I became the perfect puppy. He needed someone for a job; I was there. I became Neal Caffrey. Each job I did went towards repaying my debt because, honestly, he did save me from a life of the streets. Later on, I met Moz and he we hatched a plan to break away from that debt. The Adler con would have put me in the clear. When that failed, as you know, I worked other jobs. The year you caught me was the same year I had finished paying off my debt.”

            Peter was speechless. He felt everything he thought he knew about Neal, or whatever his real name was, was turned inside out. “Neal… How old are you?”

            “Why, Peter-“ He began jokingly but cut off at Peter’s expression. “It’s not that big of a deal,” He said while avoiding eye contact, “it’s only a number. It doesn’t change anything.”

            “Neal.”

            The conman sighed and lost the pretense. “The Caffrey ID puts me 6 years ahea-“ Neal began slowly.

            “SIX YEARS?” Peter thunders.

            Neal flinches at his tone and nods meekly.

            After some quick mental math, Peter continues, “You’re really 26?” Another meek nod. “I arrested you when you were 20? 20!” Yet another nod. Peter stood up and began pacing. “Neal, if you go on record with this, you can be-“

            “No! Peter, no! None of this goes on record. I told you this because I trust you. Please, don’t make it official.” Neal leapt up, his eyes begging.

            “But, Neal! You should be free! Those bond forgeries were committed under duress and while you were underage! You deserve to be free. If you testify against Gerhard, you can be free.” Peter argued.

            “Andrew’s dead, Peter.” Neal stated flatly.

            Peter sat down as his legs lost strength and he stared at Neal’s face, which was devoid of emotion. “Neal, please tell me-“

            “No! Oh, God no! I didn’t do it! Trust me, Andrew had no problem making enemies. He thought he was invincible. It caught up to him.” Neal shrugged then looked down at his feet. “And no matter what he did to me, I- I still looked up to him in a way. I owe him my life.” Neal said quietly.

            “No, Neal, you don’t owe him anything. However, I owe you an apology.” At his quizzical look, Peter continued, “All of this, the anklet, the work sentence, you don’t deserve. You were just a lost kid. Neal… What happened to you wasn’t justice. Please, let me set you free.” Peter reached up to grasp Neal’s arm, forcing the young man to look him in the eye.

             But Neal’s eyes were filled with pain and self-loathing. He shook his head and gave Peter a sad smile. “It’s been a long day. I know I’m tired. Go home, Peter.”

            “Neal, please, just think about it. Please.” Peter implored once more as Neal led him to the door.

            “Good night, Peter.” Neal said as he ushered him out. Peter stared at the door for several seconds before leaving in a daze. On the other side, Neal was breathing in deeply, feeling lighter, now that his secrets were gone. He sent a quick text to Mozzie saying he told Peter everything. Then, he shuffled to his bed and passed out; he was exhausted.

            Peter was barely aware while he drove home. He was lucky there was little traffic because his mind was a million miles away. He thought about his initial perception of Neal, the ever-smiling conman. He tried to fit in the true story of Neal, the lost teen. He tried to reconcile the fact that Neal was 6 years younger than Peter had thought he was. In Peter’s mind, he was basically still a kid.

           When Peter arrived at his house, he saw the lights still on and quickly went inside to greet El. Tipped off by his expression, she immediately asked what was wrong.

           “Neal. He told me everything about his childhood.” Peter stated blandly.

           “I thought he had already done that?” She asked confusedly.

           “He… left out bits before.” Peter mumbled.

           “Is it that bad?” She asked, her entire body tense, as if scared of the answer.

           “Worse."

           That was the last thing he said before his control shattered and he broke down in his wife’s arms. She murmured soothing words and guided him upstairs to their bedroom. Then, she helped him change into his pajamas and slowly worked her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp until he fell asleep trembling in her arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far :)


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